Perfectly Flawed
by Mer3Girl
Summary: Lost in an emotional daze, Rodrick contemplates where his life is going. Rated M for language and Male/Male sex. Rodrick/Brendan. Inspired by "Perfectly Flawed" by OTEP.
1. Part 1

_**Perfectly Flawed**_

_Inspired by the song "Perfectly Flawed" by OTEP_

_Rated M for Male/Male Sex and Language_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics listed below._

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_Part 1_

_It's the same sound, the same sting, the same collapse of everything._

"C'mon, baby," cooed a sultry soprano, her red lipstick faded of its color. "I've been wanting you all night."

A nameless girl nibbled on Rodrick's earlobe, pressing her breasts against his lean torso. Hidden backstage, the pair of teenagers was concealed behind several crates of alcohol bottles. She croons against his thick neck, yet he seems disinterested, gazing into the void of the shadows with hateful eyes. It felt nice to be touched, but she was just another fan that barely knew his name. Normally, he would have taken her by now behind the crates, claiming her womanhood as his. However, Rodrick just felt fucking sick by this insect.

"What's wrong?" she questioned, her high pitched voice beginning to irritate him further.

He pushes her away to dismiss her, making an exit.

"You fucking dick!" she curses him aloud, readjusting her bandage of a leather skirt.

He merely ignored her, raking his fingers through his dark hair. He wiped away her kisses with the back of hand as if to dismiss her sexual desperation. He wasn't here to entertain her little fantasies.

The dim yellow light of the ceiling lamps illuminated his olive skin as he navigated through small groups of people. It was secretly customary for underage people to sneak in alcohol. What was fabulous about this bar was that no one really cared if you were young and drunk. Do your business and get the hell out. It was perfect for Rodrick. Tonight, however, the cluttered noise of the people gave him a hammering migraine. Someone had called out to him to join in a meaningless conversation. He ignored the call, not in the mood to socialize. 'Jeez, how many fucking people are here? Fucking shut up.' On looking upon the disgruntled young man, people would away from Rodrick in fear that his intense look would cast them to stone. Eyes wide and framed with black makeup, he was the poltergeist of the backstage area, menacing to anyone who dared to interrupt his brooding.

Finding solace in a dingy men's bathroom, the young man kicked open the rickety swinging door, making his presence known. The sight of his bandmate, Brendan, greeted him, the tall blonde leaning against the light blue tiled walls. He was nursing a cigarette between his thin lips, the ashes glowing red with each puff. A small window had been opened to release the suffocating smoke.

"Hey," he said in a raspy voice, grey smoke accentuating the greeting.

Rodrick nodded, avoiding the blue eyes that observed his every move like a contemplative jungle cat. Looking into the mirror, Rodrick noticed smeared red lipstick decorating his neck. Scowling, he wipes away the paint, rubbing into his skin harshly. Brendan chuckled, flicking the cigarette ash into a nearby sink.

"She wasn't that good, eh?"

"If you consider 'Oh baby, tell me I'm hot and shit,' not good, then yeah."

"I thought you had low standards," the tall blonde questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Rodrick shrugged, the reflection in the mirror haunting him with dark eyes, smeared kohl eyeliner perfectly encasing the angry orbs. He could still feel her sloppy kisses on his skin, a hungry parasite sucking the life out of him.

"They expect me to just be a fantasy to them. They don't get that I just want to fuck and get the hell away. It's like I'm not even there, you know? I'm just an image to those whores."

"Don't get all Aristotle on me, Rod. Maybe girls aren't your thing anymore."

Secretly, Rodrick agreed with Brendan. The girls he encountered craved attention, and they wanted the fantasy of a lover, not the deranged reality. He finished high school, and he was still in the same place he was with his band: nowhere. How was he to pretend to be someone when he was no one? Can someone else just pretend instead of he?

Directing his gaze away from the mirror, he stared at Brendan, whose lips formed an "o" to release a puff of smoke. The way he puckered his lips was just so captivating to Rodrick. No lipstick. No paint. Just natural, chapped lips that retained a faint hue of pink. He wondered if the dry lips would scratch his skin if he touched them. Brendan stared back at Rodrick in silence, his eyelids lowered from behind his black rimmed glasses. Smirking, the tall blonde asked, "What's on your mind, Dark Boy?"

Captivated by a carnal fascination, the olive skinned young man strolled over to his bandmate, thieving him of his cancer stick. Taking a puff of the short stub of a cigarette, Rodrick dismissed it in the bathroom sink before exhaling smoke ribbons through his full lips. Brendan watched as the shorter young man gazed up at him with teenage runaway eyes, loving the way his makeup blackened out his eye sockets. Seizing Brendan's face between his large hands, Rodrick forced his lips onto his own.

Hungry mouths smashed in a lustful tango as Rodrick pressed his lean body against the tall blonde's chest. He sighed aloud as Brendan grasped his hips, grinding them into his own. He could feel his manhood swell as it nudged Brendan's emerging erection. Uncharacteristic of his calm personality, Brendan pulled on the shorter young man's hair, gaining better access to his neck. His teeth sailed over the olive flesh, evoking a little moan from his new playmate. Rodrick sailed his nails down Brendan's side, stopping at the hem of his white shirt to fiddle with the pesky material. He could feel the tall blonde smirk against his skin.

Without hesitation. Brendan pulled away from Rodrick, grabbing him by the wrist to push him into an empty bathroom stall. Dark eyes flickered with excitement at the rough treatment, wanting to just be ravaged in all his entirety. He grinned wildly as the tall blonde entered the stall, slamming the door shut. He thrust Rodrick's back against the stall wall, continuing to bruise his lips with ravenous kisses. Tan fingers found the hem of the tall blonde's shirt, and began pulling it up his pale torso. Brendan broke away from the kiss, and pulled off his shirt quickly. Letting it fall to the floor, Brendan sought after Rodrick's forest green shirt, forcing its way up his sun-kissed flesh. Rodrick wriggled out of the shirt, and attacked Brendan's bare chest with wet kisses. Brendan kissed his forehead as his hands caressed his sides, feeling him shiver beneath his touch. What made Rodrick stop in his tracks was when Brendan unbuckled his belt, tugging down his pants and underwear.

"What's wrong?" he asked Rodrick, his pale crème fingers entangled in the dark pubic hair.

Despite his hardening manhood, the dark haired young man felt anxious. He had never had sex with another guy before. 'No, I'm not fucking scared,' he deceived himself, forcing a smirk.

"Nothing," he responded.

"You never did this before," Brendan said this as a statement rather than an inquiry.

"No, but I'll give anything a try," he crooned, pushing the tall blonde's hands away so that he could push down his pants and underwear to his ankles.

The jingle of the belt buckle against the clothing signified to Rodrick that there was no turning back now. He unbuttoned Brendan's black pants, pulling them down enough so that his manhood made its debut, saluting the stained ceiling. His long, tan fingers played with the velvety flesh, flicking his thumb against the tip which was already moist from pre-ejaculation.

"No games, Dark Boy," Brendan whispered, kissing Rodrick's bruised lips before turning his body around, roughly planting his cheek against the cold wall.

He could feel the tall blonde caress his left buttock, sending electricity up his spine. Breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened, beginning to regret this decision. He knew it was going to hurt…

But he remained silent.

From behind, Brendan brought his pale fingers to Rodrick's lips, commanding him to, "_Suck_" in a deep rasp. He did as he was told, suckling his middle and index fingers, flicking his tongue over the calloused tips. He could hear Brendan moaning his name, his hot breath tickling his bare shoulder. Snatching his fingers away, Brendan surprised Rodrick by inserting his wet fingers between his buttocks. Rodrick choked on a moan, both scared and turned on by the odd sensation. His entrance was widened by the tall blonde's fingers, Rodrick's own saliva serving as the lubricant. The scissoring motions of Brendan's fingers made the dark haired boy whine sweetly, his lips curling back.

"Aaagghh," he sighed, his knees threatening to give out.

It wasn't long before the fingers left the warmth of his insides as Brendan brought his manhood to his entrance. Without warning, he thrust into the dark haired young man. Dark eyes shot open with shock, a white light blinding him as a surge of pain erupted throughout his limbs and belly. With his eyes beginning to well with tears, a muffled thought birthed in his mind.

'Maybe _I'm_ the whore..'

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_**Author's Note:** __Hello! I haven't posted for this fandom in a long time, but felt inspired since the new trailer for DOAWK 3 is out. I've been going through a depressing time, so I felt like channeling Rodrick in this two-shot fic. The next chapter is going to be dark whereas this one was more sexual. _

_Let me know in a review if you are reading/interested, and I will post Part 2. I think even Rodrick has a fragile side. _

_Thanks!_

_~Peace. Love. And pink hair dye._


	2. Part 2

**_Part2_**

"_A disguise of self-deception hides my secrets perfectly. I'm rejecting my reflection, because I hate the way it judges me."_

_"Perfectly Flawed" _by_ **OTEP**_

Ascend the stairs with yet another sting in the chest. His clothes stuck to his skin from the sweat, molding against the leans lines of his body. On returning from the bar, Rodrick could still feel the kisses of his bandmate on his bruised lips. His insides still screamed from the violation. He thought it would be such a thrill. _Kissing_ another man, _fucking_ another man, just to know what it was like to be dominated…to be like a woman. He didn't know what came over him. He used to masquerade as a serpent sniffing out playful nymphs to devour. Yes, they would cry out his name under the covers, and it gave him satisfaction. However, that satisfaction only quenched his thirst for a short amount of time. It only made him even more hungry for life. He knew why he wanted to be taken by Brendan.

He wanted to forget about this life.

His lengthy legs took him to the bathroom, basking in the comfort of the darkness. A flick of the light switch, and he was blinded by an immense light. Cursing under his breath, Rodrick shut his eyelids. No longer able to stand the sticking of his shirt, he removed it shabbily, his upper body writhing to be free of the constricting clothing. Tossing it aside like yesterday's lover, he came to face the reflection in the mirror.

His eyes framed in the kohl of an Egyptian prince, he struck his gaze into the young man that stared back at him. Long spikes of dark hair hung like dragon's teeth over his wide eyes. His bare torso was so delicately lined, deprived of any meat. To say that his facial features were androgynous was an understatement. Cheekbones like a feline. Dark eyes endless and demanding. Full lips of an overused, abused prostitute.

A flash of tonight's event swayed into his mind. How he was dominated in a bathroom stall, biting back any scream that threatened to leave his lips. He was in pain, but he craved more of the slamming against the cold wall. With each slam, he was reminded of his existence. _"I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive."_ As strange as that sounded, it was true. Pain and pleasure alike told Rodrick that he existed, that he mattered. Any time outside of those moments made him feel idle. What's the point of living a life if he was just an empty shell? He was finished with high school. He didn't want to fake a smile in college, and he didn't want to get a job just to get approval. Maybe he didn't want to grow up. What was there to grow up for anyway? Be society's pet? Hopeless.

Rodrick just wanted an answer to life besides "enjoy your life." 'Pff, what life? I lie around like shit, and play music. The music doesn't excite me anymore. I'm just some stage whore drifting off to the next show. If not that, than what else is there for me?' Of course, no one answered his mental inquiries. The waiting was unbearable, and the silence only made him dread the next day even more.

"How much longer..?" he whispered, not bothering to finish his sentence.

He couldn't wait for life to begin anymore. He couldn't remain idle, waiting for some divine intervention to tell him what he was fucking meant for in this life. His parents, or pretty much any authority figure, would dictate to him what he should be doing in life. Succeed in school. Groom yourself. Stand up straight. Find nice companions. Was he really such a threat that they felt the need to whip him with demands, rejecting his appearance, his words, his dreams? They already judged who he would become, and yet he knew nothing of _who_ he was or _what_ he was to become.

The reflection in the mirror glared back at the deranged teenager. Rodrick averted his gaze, despising the emptiness and desperation in the dark eyes. He hated them because they were truthful. 'I have nothing,' he thought, touching his cheek. 'Every night is the same. I'm never satisfied. I dream, and nothing ever comes true. Maybe there is nothing else for me. Maybe I'm already dead.'

Turning his head to the side, he directed his gaze onto the shaving razor lying innocently on the rim of the porcelain bathtub. He could easily do it…Slide the blade down his wrist (the correct way), opening up the emotional wounds to let them pour out onto the bathroom floor. The floor would take in his pain, forever stained with his self-pity and hatred.

"Rodrick?"

Dark eyes sought out the unwanted intrusion at the doorway. Who did he have to murder in order to be alone with his thoughts?

There stood Greg, his pajamas much too big for his small frame. He looked up at his elder brother with a look of perplexity, an eyebrow cocked upward.

"What are you doing? Just get home?" he questioned, a smirk alluding to his possible ratting out of Rodrick.

A smart alleck retort from Rodrick would be expected to fill the silence. Alas, he did no such thing. He looked away from Greg, shaking his head. 'He's so fucking ignorant. So innocent, and has no worries at all about life. I hate that little bastard.'

"Hello? Earth to Rodrick?"

"I hear you, asshole. I'm just thinking."

"You? Think? Is that even possible for you?"

Having had enough of Greg's jeering comments, Rodrick dove in to grab his brother by the collar of his shirt. Being brought up to Rodrick's eyes, Greg's legs dangled in the air like a rag doll. This ragdoll feared punishment from his upset owner. Attempting to escape Rodrick's grip, Greg's hazel eyes lowered absentmindedly to his brother's chest. The shadows and light of the bathroom accentuated the ribs protruding the tan skin. Greg was slightly disturbed by this. Yes, his elder brother was lanky, but to see his bones make their debut, stretching out his tan skin…Well, it made Greg concerned for the ruthless teenager. His gaze rising back up, Greg could see that the hollow of Rodrick's cheeks were sunken in and almost black from the shadows. The frown on his full lips complimented the sharp cheekbones, rivaling that of a wicked skull.

Suddenly, Rodrick's gaze eased, his eyelashes fluttering shut. Pausing for a moment, he lowered Greg to the floor, his little feet shuffling against the wood. He leaned down, a hand reaching down to Greg's face. The younger brother feared that he was about to be slapped, but found to his surprise that his brother's palm cupped his cheek. Eyes shot open, staring up at Rodrick. He was smirking, but not in a menacing fashion. Patting his pale cheek, Rodrick straightened up, dragging his limbs to his attic bedroom.

"You'll understand when you're older, twerp."


End file.
